


everything is in place, and flowers, and grass.

by PrussianBell



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Magic Cloak is here to give him one, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Strange is here too, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, though he should keep his hand to himself, when does he not??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 01:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19897309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrussianBell/pseuds/PrussianBell
Summary: Post Infinity War.Tony has to come up with something. Steve needs to come up with something.AND STRANGE SHOULDN'T TRY TO SEDUCE SPIDERS WHILE EVERYTHING IS IN ASHES





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Все на месте- цветы и трава](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/500593) by Zufriden. 



> hi there buds  
> it’s my first fanfic that i decided to translate from Russian to English (usually i do just the opposite), so please don’t be harsh. 
> 
> Style is fucked up not only because i’m not native but also ‘cause it’s quaint in the original work. that’s why i loved it. all credits to the author.
> 
> I’ll be glad to hear out any typos and grammar mistakes. And if you want to do beta’ing of this fic - please, be my guest (put my service to the best lmao)  
> Enjoy!

The earth is covered with ashes. Even the most desperate person is looking strictly ahead now, not under feet. Everywhere but not here. 

from the outside, it looks like an insurrection of the insane.

Someone was lucky not to pretend but crack up for real. Tony would be happy to echo this sort of optimism but that plague touches only the selected. Iron man is vaccinated from sentiment in all possible ways. The red planet has done its work, the old woman can rest in peace.

Stark carefully washes his hands, white foam smells of bergamot and copper. 

oddly as there has been no blood.

If you lick those ashes, will it be salty? Or sweet? Did Thanos have any idea how to cremate alive or was it a sick improvisation? 

Tony would have liked if along with the people had also disappeared all their houses, belongings, their photos. He would have liked to not be able to go back to where you just simply have no power to return. 

rush on the autopilot of morality, at the speed of light. It’s a good thing that the traffic rules do not apply to the framework of the apocalypse. 

When Stark announced a new residence, no one was surprised. They compared everything and decided that, yes, they need a sagging sofa and a terry carpet in the living room. They need the comfort of an ordinary person, not a den of refugees. 

A little later, the duty to act and decide will come again. It is already breathing down the back but you can brush it off a couple of times. Thanks to Steve and his orders. 

steve told everyone - at ease. And at ease means everything is permitted. 

For the tenth time rewind the answering machine, just for the sake of three words - that is quite masochistic.  
The rest are more fortunate. No one except Peter used such nonsense. Spy principles. Steve could have done such a stupid thing, but no one has taught him. 

Rogers, as it should be, is patient. He is the spitting image of James Barnes now, save for a ripped-off arm and drawn stars across the chest.  
Steve is cold, frozen-hearted inside and out, but it’s not so funny anymore. Actually, laughing at his stone face seems to be the unfunniest thing nowadays. Captain cleaned out the nails from the loved one just mere twenty minutes ago and then gave way to Stark. A noble gesture, if only he’d stop staring.

Because Peter is everywhere. On clothes, in his hair…  
In order to get rid of his voice, you’ll need at least Hydra. Secret codes, shock therapy, freaking hypnosis. 

"Please, throw the answering machine away."  
"Already did."

Tony is glad. They both know that there is a whole archive of video and audio recordings on the base. That’s why they are elsewhere.

Steve pulls out a pink towel without waiting for a request. Not the olive branch but still fine.

"Thanks, Cap." 

The captain looks through Tony, through his fleeting relief. He’s gazing either at parallel worlds or at Hell itself. Thanos should have snagged these eye while he could because they do not yield to the stones of infinity even for a little bit. These eyes will take away their own - snap whatever you want, Purple. 

"Steven Grant Rogers, what are you up to?"  
"Do you have Fury’s number?"  
"You offend me, I'm a genius and remember it by heart."  
"Call him."


	2. 2.

Taking everyone is impossible. Being a great wizard without a stone is impossible. At this time, bargain was at its minimum. With sweat and blood, nearly bursting with efforts. New white patches on his temples will serve forever as grim reminders.

Parker no longer cries or looks around. Though his eyelashes are still wet, stuck together. Another of these upward gazes, and his control will crack.

Bravado will sink into oblivion with a shrieking "A-A-A-A". It is already breaking down, not able to feel any foothold underneath. 

instead of logic, a viscous web.

"Are we dead?" in the silence Peter's voice seems ringing. Iridescent. 

Like music. 

"We are not dead?"

A rhetorical question for which Stephen does not know the right answer. He has hundreds of diplomas, awards and conferences under his cloak. Profound scrolls, secret libraries - to hell with education.  
You wouldn’t find the answer even in the darkest corners. 

There are forty thousand eternities hidden in stock, one could spare some time to ponder. Peter knows nothing about those eternities so reducing the distance to a minimum seems to him as a good enough idea. Repeat the question in a whisper, standing on tiptoe? Rational! Wonderful! Keep it up!

"We are dead..."

In no version that he viewed was boy standing so close. He had been dying in every possible way. Sometimes sobbing, sometimes silently evaporating. His despair invariably stuck with Stark who has been getting wry smiles and grimaces of pain. So-so inheritance, if you think about it. 

stephen wants to believe he bargained for trash. 

Impish Santa Clauses are dancing before eyes, a garland of butterflies is flickering in the stomach. Not even a semblance of trash.  
Ghosts don’t know how to choke, they do not feel. Or do they? Their fate is everlasting peace or whatever it is that religion is harping on about. 

Parker's projection looks bloody material, strand to strand. Droplets of sweat on the temples and thin dry lips. Just a strip of pink skin. 

Strange could not have invented such a thing before death, as if he had nothing more to be done. He is kind of like Sorcerer Supreme, it's too late to fantasize about teenagers. If only they wouldn’t have fallen from heaven directly into the hands. 

Please, tell me at least something…

Being sharp and caustic now is tantamount to another genocide, though chamomile tea also can not appear out of thin air. From a sedatives there is only the cloak, and - thank God, orders are not required out loud. Strange’s wardrobe is quite understanding.

Cloak hugs Parker gently and humanly. If he could have talked, he would have definitely bawled lullabies and cracked hackneyed jokes. 

It would be embarrassing,   
as a miracle should be quiet. 

And they will wait for this quiet miracle. together.


End file.
